Before your luck runs out
by radiowavesandmicrowaves
Summary: Bella is only 14 and dreams of a man with a heart of gold. She was the popular girl until her grandmother died, which shook her foundations. She became dark and depressed, and obsessed with a particular spot in the forest. Personality is a little off. AH.
1. Pre Chapter Filler

I always hated being alone at this time of year.

My friends were always having their own festivities, whilst I was stuck with my Mother and Father, in this house, with only my laptop for companionship. Sadly, the internet was not working.

I pull open the disk drive and see if there's anything that I can watch whilst suffering in silence. 'Elf' and scratched copy of 'Drop Dead Fred'. Drop dead Fred it is then.

Being 14 and being stuck alone in this cramped excuse for a house was one bad thing about this time of year, the second was the fact that it was New Years Eve and I was alone once again.

I began to wonder whether I had any real friends, because I had posted on Facebook that I wasn't to be doing anything this New Years, and not one out of my 230 friends replied and asked me if I would like to join them in their celebrations.

Some friends they turned out to be.

So I switch on my dusty Ds lite and view which game I have in it. Brain training of all things. I shut it off and come back to my desk, and search for an internet connection, just my luck, which is nothing. I close the page and sigh, wishing that this New Year could possibly be slightly better than this year.

I keep thinking about a game I had recently completed, Professor Layton and Pandora's Box. I keep thinking about the man at the end, whom made the Pandora's Box. The animation drawing of him was one I found most attractive, with a devilish look, beautiful blonde/white hair, the perfect nose and the perfect chin, and most of all, the speculation that he was a vampire.

How I wish for a man like that, oh how I wish…

But I am only fourteen, hormonal and silly. Falling in love with something that will never happen is always an early sign of insanity, as my grandmother used to say. Oh how I wish for the companionship I had before Grandmother died. I was popular, peppy and always invited to sleepovers and birthday parties, even if I was not friends with the person. But when Grandmother died, I turned into a shell of my former self. I had turned dark, lonely and desolate. Mother made me go to counseling, but that did not work, instead I put on a cheesy grin and hoped no one would look through the cracks, and then not succeed at trying to help me resolve my depression. Only a man of my dreams and fantasies would be able to help me, for I was beyond help.

A cool chill runs down my spine as I put my grey ankle boots on and tuck the hem of my jeans into them. I grab a scarf, a coat and a pair of gloves. I grab a large rucksack also and stuff some Pj's in, along with a change out outfit. I fiddle about in my make-up draw and find a lighter and some match sticks. I pile in some paper and pens, a ten pound note and flash light. I pull a sleeping bag off the top of my wardrobe and a blanket from my bed. I turn my phone off and tuck it into my pocket, grab my hat and off I go, off to the home of the Masen's.


	2. Chapter one

Chapter one

I walk down the stairs and yell to my Mother, 'Off to Michelle's, be back tomorrow.'

When she doesn't reply, it always means she says okay, but can't be bothered drawing her lips away from the screen, as CSI: Crime Scene Investigation was on, and she was practically in love with William Peterson. As for my Father, he worked late and wasn't home until 7 am the next morning.

I walk out of the house and into the empty street, no cars or people, just an empty little close. I troop down the road and turn left then right. I walk into the news agents and buy a two litre bottle of water, marshmallows and a mixed bag of apples.

I walk out and go straight ahead, walking straight to the woods. I turn on my phone and call Dad. It goes straight to voice mail, good. 'Going to Michelle's New Years party, I'm staying the night, okay? Love you.' I turn my phone off and head into the woods.

I grab the torch out of my bag and creep through the dense shrubbery, searching for the house. I carry on searching in the dark for at the very least 10 minutes and then stumble upon the 'slumber' house.

I guess your wondering why it's called the 'Slumber' house aren't you? Well it is called so because when my parents fought each other in the early stages of their relationship, (when I was about 6-7) I always had to go and sleep at friends or neighbours. We were friends with a family called the Masen's, who lived there. One night, my parents dropped me off at the edge of the forest and told me to follow the path down until I reached a large house with a white front door. I followed down this path and bumped into their youngest son, Edward, who was about 15 at the time. I thought nothing of him, just that he was a nice, awkward boy. Mother and Father were on the verge of a break up, a divorce maybe, so when they rowed, I would be deposited at the Masen's house. I only ever saw Edward, as he was their only son, and I never saw the parents, because they were always busy at work. Miss McIver, the house keeper was only ever there when I was, and I never saw Edward outside of his home. By the time I was eight, Miss McIver had passed away and Edward run away from home. Mr and Mrs Maison left and never came back. Thugs never found the house because it was so dense in the forest, and the Masen's never put it up for sale. So I would always spend a night every once in while, as my own little tradition.

New years eve always seemed to be a night of celebration, so I would spend my New Years here, celebrating the fact that... well I'm not really celebrating anything I guess.

A cool chill runs down my sparsely covered spine as I walk up the wood chipping drive. They are all squelchy and muddy, covering my boots with visible brown slush. I roll my eyes and sneak through the open window, placing my bag in first to cushion my fall. The house was pitch black and as I placed my foot on the edge of the window frame. A rustle of leaves come from behind me. My head darts in the direction of the sound, looking around, frantically waving the beam of the torch all over the place. Another cool chill erupts, giving me a spasm in my neck. I breath and think, 'It's just the wind...'. I roll my eyes and get back to the job in hand, getting through the window. I have recently had a growth spurt, so getting in and out of this place would be harder than the last few times, which were back in spring. But I manage to slink through and close the window behind myself. I flick the light switch and the room is luminous within seconds, I know your thinking 'Abandoned house, why would there be electricity?'. Solar panels.

I run my hands over the soft suede couch, the wooden rocking chair, the ornaments, looking to see if vandals have been there, no, everything is perfect. I sigh a sign of relief and walk through the door way, over to the stairs, and I check the hall for signs of distress. I flick the switch. It's all perfect. I stroll through another door into the kitchen and turn the dimmer switch to full. It's spotless, not a fragment of dust anywhere. I open the cabinet closest to the back door and switch the boiler on. I rub my arms and walk back to the hall. There's a small fuse box under the stairs in an ornate cabinet that appears to house priceless art, I unbolt the bottom and turn the handle round full on the door, opening the cabinet up, revealing the fuse box. Miss McIver taught me that just in case the fuses went and I had to flick the switch to restart the electricity. They did not use the solar panels when I came to stay, they only installed them just before they moved out and vanished. I would have liked it if they had stayed.

For some reason, for the first time in years, I start to think of Edward, the son. He was just some one I would occasionally play a board game with or when I was showing Miss McIver a dance from ballet (which soon after I realised I sucked at), who she would rope in to be my audience. He wasn't the typical teen, acne, parties, school, no, he was much deeper than that. He would always have his nose buried in a book, or his walk man on, and I don't think he was listening to Spice Girls or Blink 182.

When ever he would interact with me, he'd always let me win, no matter what game, no matter how annoying or persistent I had been for him to play, he would always let me win. Did he feel sorry for me? Did he do it for another reason, apart from shutting me up?

I glanced at the old grandfather clock which was behind me and checked the time. It was 9:35pm. How long had I been thinking of Edward for?

I turn my phone back on and call Mum, to say happy new year, in case I would 'Forget'. Three rings and she picks up, I hear adverts in the background, so she wouldn't be annoyed that I had called her when 'Grissom' was on.

'Happy new year!' I yell down the phone, I get my Ipod out and pretend it's music blaring away in the background. One of those 'Dance anthems' buzz out, a on going thump, thump, thump beating out of the head phone.

'Having a good time?' She asks, you can tell she's smiling down the phone.

'Yes, yeah, it's a good party, everyone's laughing and dancing'. I reply, faking gibberish and laughs in the background.

'Sounds so love... what time will you be home tomorrow?' She asks. I fake bumping into someone and then closing a door behind me so I can hear her better.

'About, um, noon? Yeah noon.' I say, confidently, even though I know that I'll be home way before then.

'All right then Bella, see you soon... and happy new year to you also'.

'Bye, mum.'

'By-' She hangs up, I guess the breaks over.

I decide that I'll have a look upstairs, see if everything is okay. I put my phone back in my pocket and turn it on silent. I delicately walk up the stairs, minding that my muddy boots do not show the stairs any sign of intrusion. I reach the top of the stairs and turn the light on. I first look in Miss McIver's old room, which is empty as all her children took her belongings after she died. Even the walls are bare, no wall paper, just bare brick and plaster board.

I close the door and walk along to the next room, an empty room used for guests. It was the one I stayed in every so often, I usually stayed in the room next to Edwards. I open the door to find a simple white bed with white sheets and a beige throw. There is a ordinary book shelf and a bedside table with lamp. The room has also got bare walls, yet a spotless carpet. I close the door behind me and walk up the next flight of stairs. There are no paintings on the wall like there once was, and the plants on the landing are gone off the table. I open the first door, a library styled room, with a single monitor screen and mouse on the desk to the north. There is a wood floor in here, so I do not fret to go in. The book case is brimming with books, with timeless classics to modern novels. I pick up a rather battered copy of 'wuthering heights' and look at the cover. First Edition copy, I could tell by the old styled gold handwriting and the fact that the cover was plain red. I don't think that Mr and Mrs Masen are that old... or maybe they just bought it at an auction.

I open the cover and look at the owner's name. E. Masen, but the year was scribbled out. All that remained after that was a message from E. Masen.

'_Bella, I know that this is the first book you'll look at in the library-_'


	3. Chapter two

Chapter Two – Surprises

My jaw drops as I try to contain myself, but all kinds of emotion flood out of me. A cool chill runs all over as I close the book shut and quickly place it on the bookshelf again. I close my eyes and think of possible reasons for why that text is in that book.

Maybe E. Masen was addressing it to another Bella (which was unlikely, Bella is a rare name to hear off around here, all the Isabelle's and Isabella's are always addressed to as their full names), or even addressing it to... I can't think of any other reasons.

I bite my lip, wanting to quiz this book more, wanting to see the secrets behind it, see why there is a message addressed to me, or some other Bella. I take a deep breath and open the book again, readying myself to delve into the message.

'-, because when ever you'd come into the library, you'd always want to read Sense and Sensibility, or of course this book, Wuthering Heights. You always did have an collective taste. I gathered the fact that this may scare you or 'freak you out'-' He got that right, '-but I'm sure you will understand this more as you read on.

This is new years eve? I thought so. I always knew you would come by, as you are a sucker for tradition. If you wish to get answers for my families disappearance, look behind you.

I assure you will find me there.

Yours, E. Masen.'

I fall backwards, my legs unable to stop shaking. Another set of cool shivers brush down my spine, tickling every nook and cranny along the way. I rub my legs and shake my head as I push myself off the hard wooden floor. It is cold like the rest of the house, like everything recently. I open my eyes and close the book in my hand and I lie it on top of the bookcase's lowest shelf. I brace myself and close my eyes whilst turning around, as picture's of Edward flutter around in my mind. I exhale harshly and open my eyes.

I fall backwards and black out...


	4. Chapter three

Chapter 3 – Questions

...But I don't feel the hard wooden floor, something cushions my fall.

I awake several hours later by a roaring fire, wrapped in a soft blanket. I feel so comfortable that I do not want to get up, or even open my eyes. But the warm, fuzzy sensation of just waking up soon fades away and I am forced to sit up from where I lay. I still do not open my eyes.

I smell roasting marshmallows and sliced apples, the fragrance too familiar to not know straight away. I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands and yawn, whist stretching my arms and legs outwards. I feel my right leg hit something hard so I open my eyes to investigate. My jaw drops again and I feel my face turn a shade lighter. My eyes stare glassily at the figure crouching next to marble hearth of the fireplace. Stunned I try to mumble something out, but all words fail me.

"Bella." The voice echo's around the room, I still stare in disbelief. The voice chuckles a smooth and delicious laugh, so I close my jaw. He closes his eyes and runs his fingers through his unkempt copper brown hair, still branding a half smile. He stands up and walks around so he is near my face, yet I am still speechless. He crouches next to me and hands me a sticky toasted marshmallow, oozing goo all over his finger tips. I reach my hand up, shaking and I take the marshmallow from his hand. His fingers are cold, despite the warmth of the marshmallow. I shiver from the coldness of his fingers and he sighs, now holding a distasteful look on his face. I place the marshmallow in my mouth and chew, it is cooked perfectly, gooey on the inside, slightly crisp on the outside.

I bite my bottom lip and take a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. I smile and then try to speak.

"Uh-um... is that you... Edward?" Another cool chill rockets down my spine, so I shuffle closer to the fire. He is still crouched and still looking in distaste, yet, now he is drawing up another slight smile.

"Bella." Again, his voice echo's around the room. My lips now pierced, he answers.

"Yes, it is. Is that you, Bella?" His voice seems sad, yet with a velvet smooth touch to it.

I mumble out the words "Yes, it is."

"Did I startle you?" He asks, turning towards me and looking me in the face, I blush and he smiles.

"I guess your face answers it all." I blush a further tone of tomato red, making his smile spread further around his face.

"That's cute." I feel my face get hot, so shift away from the fire, hoping it will cool me down. His eyes follow my movement. I try to look further into his eyes, but he is too far away at the moment. From where I am sitting, they look a crystal topaz, a strange eye colour to have.

He pulls another marshmallow off the twig and hands it to me. I gladly accept it and playfully push it into my mouth. So warm, so delicious.

"I know I left suddenly, and I'm sorry. I had to leave, so did my parents. You think it is strange how we only took paintings, plants and a piano? We only took the important things.

"Sometimes I wish I had stayed, but I had to leave." He was sounding too cryptic to be trying to explain something, more like he was trying to leave clues for me, like he wasn't allowed to tell me something... like I had to figure it out for myself.

"Would you like to ask me anything?"

I thought of all the questions stored up in my head, from when I was younger. They were silly questions like 'Do you have a girlfriend?' and 'Why do you suck at chess?'. I decide to ask a more admirable and sophisticated question. I suck in a breath and breathe out my question.

"Why did you go?"

There was a long pause before he plucked up his courage and answered me, like he was trying to say that he couldn't really tell me.

"Because I had to." He replies to me. Is that all?

"But why?" I whisper, trying to look hurt so he will tell me. He gnaws on his bottom lip and doesn't say anything.

"Okay then, where did you go?"

"Everywhere."

"Why did you go everywhere?"

"I was searching for something." I paused a second and then fired out another question.

"Did you find it?"

"I have now." He is intriguing, he doesn't look a day over 18. He reminds me of the book, Dorian Gray by Mark Twain, yet not in the selfish, pig-headed way that Dorian Gray is portrayed and how he acts. He is more of a... Anton... from Professor Layton and Pandora's Box.

"What did you find?" The room only filled with the noise of the crackling wood on the fire and as the fire dies down, it feels abundant with silence. I guess he is thinking of yet another cryptic answer, which I am starting to loathe.

"You." Now I was the deadly silent one. Where did that come from? Why did he search everywhere for me when he should have realised I was still here all along? I felt a warm sensation prickle my back and I started to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I was filling with joy and happiness. I was feeling good for the first time in the last year.

"R-real-really?" I still can't understand that I am the thing he was looking for. Maybe he said it to shut me up, or maybe he really means it. Who am I to know, I can't read minds. He looked up at me and starred into my eyes, making my warm, fuzzy feeling inside grow intenser and more defined.

"Your eyes are still so beautiful, although all the loss and despair you have gone through. I still remember your face from when you beat me at scrabble, the day before I left. Such bold and intense brown eyes, piercing and capturing the hearts of all whom gaze into them.

"And your smile, so bright and hopeful, even when the worst was succumbed to you. Admirable, how strong your little heart was, when Miss McIver died. She was like your second mother. To me she was the only mother I ever really had. My mother was always to busy to care for me." His face looks cold and pained, like he is blinking back tears.

"You don't look a day over 18, although you should be about 22 now. Your eyes look different, I always remembered a magnificent green, with a dark green edge. Your skin looks paler, more porcelain than it was. And your hair... much darker, it used to be... a blonde brown, now it's a kind of coppery, still beautiful though. And your taller, by about half a foot. Did you go to University or College? Study medicine by any chance? You would always pick me up when I'd had an accident, which was every time I'd come by. You must have been strong to cope with Miss McIver's death also, although you must have had time to reflect on it all when you ran away. Why can't you tell me why you left?"

I am on the verge of crying now, but the way he blinks back those tears, to show he is brave, although I wouldn't mind them, he helped me not to burst into streams of desperate and desolate sobs. I couldn't help but let one more tear run down my cheek, for Miss McIver. Edward must have noticed this because he walks over and sits next to me, putting his right arm around my shoulders and using his left index finger to brush away my fallen tear. I lean my head on his chest and close my eyes, feeling another set of tears fall down my face. And we just sit there, for what felt like hours, but they were thoroughly enjoyed as Edward brushed back my tears and I snuggled into his hard, yet delicate chest. He made me feel complete for the first time in years, maybe my whole life...

I wanted to stay like this forever, with a friend who understood what loss and despair was, and who wasn't silly, shallow and only thinking about their looks.

Staying with someone who cared for me. That's all I wanted for now.


	5. Chapter four

Chapter 4 - Sing

"Happy new year" Edward yawns as the clock struck 12 and chimes. I also felt the need to yawn, so I too yawned. Edward gets up and walks over to the window, where all my belongings are. He tidies my clothes back away and zips up my bag. I get up also and pick up all the twigs and place them on the fire. They are engulfed within seconds. I pick up a wedge of apple and bite into it, the skin bruised and bashed from being in my bag. Turn to Edward and he beckons me upstairs, so I grab my blanket and I turn all the lights off in the room. For the first time, I realize that yes, they did take the piano with them, and that it definitely gave the room less of an impact. I also notice for the first time that I'm not in my clothes that I came in with, I was now wearing my pyjama's. I pull my top forward to check I still have a bra on, and yes, I do. I also check my pants, so I do the same, and yes, I still have some underwear on.

As I tail Edward up the stairs, I see that he has also developed a certain taste in clothing. He appeared to be wearing some simple loafers, jeans, a blazer and a sweat shirt. That look is certainly different to his old style.

We go up to the second floor, and into his bedroom. It is the same as I remembered it. I never went in when I came for visits, as I thought it might be a little rude, but it still looks like someone was living in here. The bed is made perfectly with dark grey covers and a black pillow and throws. There is also a fold up camp bed; I guess that I'd be sleeping there. I place my blanket on the top end which is supplied with a black pillow and I sit down on the thin duvet.

"You can... Um- sleep on my bed- I mean in my bed." I guess I was the first girl he has had over for a sleepover. I smile as I move over to the bed and sit down on the covers. They feel new, they also smell new...

I felt like asking him to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story, but I shake my head and smile at my silliness. He turns around and sits down on the camp bed, looking at me in the same way I am looking at him. I start to blush as I realise I am in Edwards bedroom. Of all places I thought I'd be tonight, I end up in here. I smile inwardly and enjoy the fact that this is the first time and probably the last time I'd be sleeping over at someone else's house, as my mother will get this out of me, when I come home smelling like a boys bedroom.

"Are you sure you want to sleep on the camp bed? I mean there's plenty of room in this bed for two..." Did I just say that? I blush again and Edward chuckles.

"I'll be fine, Bella."

"Okay, but if you fall off that little thing, your welcome in here." Did I just also say that? Everything I seem to say is coming out in a sexual way... oh how embarrassing. I slap my head with the palm of my hand slide it down my face. He laughs and at me as I squirm, trying to pull back the covers from the bed. He gets up from his spectator position and helps me out, (he does it with a single tug).

I crawl under the heavy, dense duvet and I am drowned in material. This bed was certainly made for only the tallest of people, and I am not so comfortable with being swamped by a duvet. Edward now walks over, bends over my head and brings the covers to a comfortable position and tucks me in, I really do feel like a child. I close my eyes and I try to drift off into a peaceful sleep. I hear Edward peeling back the duvet from the top of the camp bed and kick off his shoes. He takes off his blazer and his sweat shirt. Then his belt. I open my eyes to take a peek. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Edward has the body of a God, one which girls could only fantasize about in their wildest, raunchiest dreams. He turns to look at himself in the mirror, poking and prodding at something on his left shoulder, a scar or scratch perhaps? He just poked and prodded until it was red and painful, I guess he was trying to distort it in a way to make it look normal. He had no such luck. He delves into a rucksack on the floor and finds a t-shirt which he puts on to cover up the redness of where he had been taunting the mark on his shoulder, then he stumbles in the darkness back to the camp bed. It heaves and squeaks as he shifts his weight onto the fragile frame of the camp bed, he covers himself in the duvet and blanket. He tries to roll over, forgetting that it is a single bed, and falls right off the edge. I can't help but to burst into a fit off laughter.

"Oh- stupid piece of junk..." He says as he pushes himself back up, laughing also. He laugh is deep and hearty, manly and husky with his velvet lick touching the edges. It is like a delicious bird song, calling out for its mate. I pierce my lips together and watch as he gathers the duvet and blanket and heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask, hesitant at the fact I am starting to sound clingy. He turns around and mumbles something which sounds like 'spare room', and then goes for the door handle. I again hesitate in my head, wondering if I'd sound a fool for asking him the next question, but I didn't care, I think he'd just laugh again.

"There is allot of room in here, you know...

"Room for another rather huge being I think, just about.

"Um, want to share?"

He turns around and walks over to me, smiling sleepily. I sigh internally, he's going to say goodnight and leave isn't he, I think to myself. He peels back the covers which he tucked in so delicately and chucks the duvet and blanket over to one side of the room. He gets in and I shuffle up to the other side, giving his body enough room to move. He peels the covers back over and sighs a little, closing his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows, as if he was in some pain. I shuffle closer to him, and I hear dry sobs. It gives me a cool chill, seeing a grown man cry. He turns over onto his side, facing away from me. I don't know whether to ask him if he is okay, or what the matter is. Why was he crying? I need to know.

"Are you al-right?"

Silence, utter silence.

"Oh, um, okay."

I shift uncomfortably, whilst turning over to my side. I close my eyes and try to tear myself away from the wreck which is lying next to me. There wasn't anything I else I could say.

"Sing." A sudden burst came out, quietly yet still surprising me.

"W-what?" I gulp, turning over and facing his still up-right body, which was starring aimlessly at the ceiling. His hands are lying over the covers, cold and still.

"Sing."

"Me-"

"Yes, you."

So he wants me to sing? I let out an exasperated sigh and purse my lips fiercely. One song was stuck in my head, and of all songs it was a Christmas song. Little Drummer Boy by David Bowie and Bing Crosby. I twiddle with my fingers and twiddle my thumbs; he bites his lip to hold back another set of tears. Heck let the voice loose.

"Um, peace on earth, can it be? Peace on earth, bah-rump-a-dump-Dum..." My voice quivered. His hands lifted up from the covers and he settles them underneath. I feel like wetting myself, I am that nervous. Before, it was like we were family, but now, since we're sharing a bed... his bed... it feels extremely different. My hand trembles as I reach for his under the covers, and another song bursts into my head. I Wanna Hold Your Hand by The Beatles.

"...and when I touch you I feel happy, inside, it's such a feeling that my love, I can't have, I can't have, I can't have! I wanna hold your haaannddd, I wanna hold your hand, I wanna hold your haaannddd, I wanna hold your hand!" He chuckles lightly at my eccentric performance, noticing that I am giving my all. I laugh along side him, and he rolls over to stare me in the face. All laughing stops and we stare into each others eyes. For that moment, I was mesmerised. His topaz eyes had fallen into a sullen golden-green. His face was wet and his eye lashes were stuck together. He looked so vulnerable, so innocent and childlike; like he wasn't a grown man, yet the little boy and the childhood he yearned for. I shuffle my head forward and he too does. His hands move up to my waist, hesitate and then move to my face. I blush red and then look down at myself, shyly. He smiles so peacefully and I reflect back at him, in awe.

He moves his head in mine and plants his lips on mine. His eyes are closed and he doesn't feel any need to pull away. I close my eyes too and picture his face in my mind. My fingers running through his copper blonde hair, his eyes locked onto mine. His hands around my waist and his lips on mine, dreaming of the perfect moment...

I was in such a daze that I hadn't noticed he had let go, and now he was facing the ceiling again. His face cold, his hands on his head, he looked regretful.

"I'm sorry... I should go."


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter 5 – Regret

I stare widely at him as he lifts the covers off himself and pushes them onto me. What did I do?

He looks again in distaste and pulls the blanket and duvet off the camp bed. He walks to the door and looks back heartlessly at me gasping with his mouth wide open.

He shakes his head and closes the door behind himself.

I look down at myself sitting up. But I can't bare it. Do I repulse him so much that he can not even kiss me? I close my eyes tightly, trying to get the image of him looking distastefully at me out of my head. I try to think of so many other things, my Mother, Father, Grandmother... yet nothing could shun that image away. I cool tear trickles from the corner of my eye, and glassily slides down my cheek. Another falls from the other eye and so on, until I decide to bury my head in the duvet.

My sobs muffled, I begin to cry louder. I feel such a fool.

I lift the covers off the bed and crawl out. I land heavily on the floor, but I don't care. I get up and trip over his pants, falling heavily again. Pathetic. That's what I am. As I push my self up for the second time, I grab for the headboard of the bed. I successfully hold onto it, and do not dare to let go as a fumble around in the dark. The clouds must have cleared, because the light of the moon through the trees shone through, giving me a little resistance to the darkness which I am surrounded in. I find my bag I grab the handle, slinging it over my shoulder. Something smashes behind me.

Of all things to break, I decide to break some sort of award. The glass lays there, shattered in a thousand pieces. One large piece remains intact, which appears to have something engraved onto it. I take my bag off my shoulder and place it on the floor infront of me. I dig around for a minute, then find the torch. I flick it on and search the remains of the glass ornament.

'1st place of the Annual Piano contest – New York City.'

New York?

"Of all things to break, you break my most prized possetion.

"Of course you would, you are Bella Swan."

I jump and drop the torch and award on the bed. Phew.

I turn around to see him standing in the door way, smiling wickedly.

"I-I am so s-sorry Edward, i-it was an a-cc-cci-dent, um..."I gargle my slow words and swallow, stooping down to pick up the larger shards of glass. He walks over.

"Careful, we know what you're like."He laughs, making me feel a little less shameful. I close my eyes and breathe out harshly.

"Why did you leave?"I ask, hand shaking as I pick up one of the larger pieces of glass. He looks at the floor, some what in a way which suggests that he was regretting leaving. I smiled inwardly, yet I still have a taught line on my face.

He swallows and looks up to me from his mop of hair. His topaz eyes glisten, yet his crooked smile fails to make an appearance. The moon ducks behind the clouds.

"Because." He says with a little angst in his voice. My rage slightly boils up.

"Because... It would only end up hurting you. I would only end up hurting you."

"How do you know that?" I ask with a bitter hiss.

"They're my intentions, I think I know what would happen, seen as though it has happened before numberous times." His eyes reverted back to the floor, endlessly searching for something else to say.

"Your only a kid. I don't want to ruin your life like I have ruined my own."

"I don't care. Why did you leave, I want a real explanation." I can feel my jaw tighten and my fists ready to clench. I pick up another sharp piece of glass and hold it in my palm.

He stands up, running his hand through his tangled hair. His eyes glaze at the ceilling, transfixed on one spot. He closes his eyes briefly, and then they stare down at me.

"Why, you want to know why? Well, to be honest, I don't want to sleep with a minor, seen as though that's illegal. I care for you too much to hurt you, you don't need this right now, I don't want you to feel the burden of all of my strife and for some reasons... I don't even know.

"I don't regret kissing you, oh no, I've never felt such warmth and love in my whole life, the thing is... I don't know... I don't know why I left. Heat of the moment I guess."

I can feel my pupils diolating and a small smile widing. He starts a small smile too, which turns quickly into that seductive crooked smile. I feel my heart melt and my insides heating up.

A tingly sensation creeps over me and I shiver slighly. I push my self up, forgetting there is a rather sharp instrument in my hand. It tickles as it cuts deeply into the palm of my hand, narrowly missing the bone. As I get up, I push onto my thigh, leaving a large red stain on the bottom of my white t-shirt. I glance down and bite my lip, still smiling. I feel my cheeks get hotter, turning from rose to tomato red. All my insecurities wash away as I brush the hair from my face to behind my ear. Then we just stare into each others eyes. I feel my mouth open slightly as I'm staring up at him, he advances forward, and I go in for a hug.

He kisses my head and wraps his arms around me.

His smell.

His incredable smell.

Sweet like honey, yet it still left you in a daze after one sniff.

So incredably inticing.

We waddle back to the bed, still hugging and he picks me up, places me delicatley on a space with no duvet, then pulls the duvet over me and scrapes back the corner closest to him. He glides in effortlessly and turns to face my burrowed head.

"You really care that much about me" I ask in an almost silent voice.

"More than anything in the world." He replies in a soothing, yet tender velvet voice.

"Why?"

"Because, you cast a spell over me. Mesmorised from day one."

"You mean when I was like, Seven?"

"Six years, 8 months and 24 days. That's what you said to Miss McIver when she asked you your age. I was skulking around, like a moody teenager. I remember hanging around a door frame, and when I caught a single glimpse of your huge, loving brown eyes, I knew I was over Ginger Spice leaving the Spice girls."

I bellow a laugh at the last part of his explanation and I raise my hand to my face, gently sliding it down as it covers my eyes, then my mouth. His mouth drops wide open, I seemed to have forgotten that it was the palm I sliced open before. He pulls my arm over and stares at the accululating pool of blood on my palm. His eyes are widen and his face turns as white as a sheet. A painful whimper comes from his throat and he jumps out of the bed. He runs awkwardly for the door and trips over something. I sit up in the bed and inspect from what little vision I have with out light. He pushes himself off the floor and darts for the door. I hear another door rattle open and then slammed shut behind him. I can't hear what he is doing, yet I suspect either one of the two things.

He is vomiting, as the sight of blood may make him ill.

He's climbing out of the bathroom window.

They are just as bad as one another, because his luxurious scent would be obscured by the smell of vomit and the fact that he thinks I'm some sort of extreme Goth or Emo and he wants to get as far away from me as possible. Both would make me cry. Both would probably make him cry.

I sigh as I roll over and stare at the wall. It was perfectly white, no blemishes or dark marks, just extreme white.

I trace my finger delicatley over the smooth surface, feeling its cool embrace. I start to shiver and quake and I quickly take my finger away from the wall. I hear foot steps pounding down the hallway, then a fist on the door handle, a turn and a push against the carpet.

He stands in the door frame, pensive.

"Is... Has it stopped bleeding?" A tickle runs down my throat and I cough to clear it.

"Yeah, it's all gone... Where did you go?" I quiz him, concerned.

"To... throw up."

"Ah, okay, as long as you weren't fleeing from the vicinity. Ha-ha..." I laugh sarcastically. His eyebrow peaks up slightly, then falls back, he walks over. I'm not too sure that he was being sick, more like escaping from me.

"Honestly, I was 'chucking my guts'" He laughs, his smile making it all feel better, all the insecurities fading away, yet again, just like magic.

I laugh light-heartedly, smiling. He doesn't fall for it. His eyes are too detailing, noticing everything and anything.

"You can't fake around me, Bella Swan, I know you better than you think. What's the problem?"

"No, no, nothing, just wondering... what time it is..." I said with an innocent facial expression. He shook his head.

"I will find out Miss Swan, you see, I have... certain powers of persuasion..."


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter 6 – Monster

I check my hand again, just to make sure it's free from blood. I manage to stop the blood loss by using the duvet to stem the bleeding.  
"I can smell it still, Bella."He says, with an enchanting voice. It isn't like he is annoyed, but at the same time, it is. I sigh and bring my hand up so he can see it. I rub a little of the dried blood off and then pass my palm to him.  
"You're going to need stitches, you know. Or that will get infected and fall off. Remember when Miss McIver would say that, but not stitches of course, when you'd fall over outside and scrape your leg on a tree, she'd say 'You're going to need some Witch Hazel on that or it will get infected, go green and fall off'" He says in an impersonated voice. I laugh loud and he smiles brightly.  
"What's it like being an adult?" I ask suddenly. For years I had dreamed about being 21, because then I could do so much. Try so many things, see so many places without anyone saying 'Don't go close to the edge', or 'Don't touch that' or 'be home by 11'. I couldn't wait to be that free.  
"Dull. You have no freedom at all. If your boss wants' you or your girlfriend or something wants you, you have to do it. Deadlines. All kinds of other crap that you don't have to do when you were young. Women constantly harassing you in Bars and Clubs, it's so awful. I would love to be your age again, right here, right now.  
"Why, what's it like being a 14 year old in this day and age?"  
"Sucky. Boys are all about one thing, girls are all about another, it's all IM's and texting, no one interacts face-to-face. If you have one social status, everyone knows about it. If you're a geek, you're a geek until you graduate, if you're a popular kid or a wannabe, then you are forever. More and more teenagers are doing drugs and drinking under age and '_losing virginities'_. Pier pressure to do all these adult things, most of them illegal. Bet it was very different for you."  
"No, not really. I first got drunk when I was... oh... 14, but I didn't like it. I took drugs, (only pot) when I was 16, after I had ran away. I was in a bad place then. Yet I haven't '_lost my virginity'_ yet, which is kind of sad. I'm... waiting for that special someone."He winks at me. I blush a dark shade of pink and feel a little flustered. It is silent for a few moments, as he just stares at me. I try not to look at him, as I am already embarrassed. He chuckles and raises his hand, yet pulls it back. I look up as he nods at himself. I quirk and eyebrow, yet I lower it before he realises I am looking at him.  
"I think we better get to sleep, it is 2 am. If you don't get 10 hours, I'll never forgive myself." He chuckles light-heartedly. I bite my top lip and nod as I do so. I roll to face the wall and close my eyes.

* * * *

As I dream, I dream of lovely things...

'I pronounce you man and wife...'  
'It's a baby girl!'  
'Ma-maa!'  
'We're going to have to dip into the college fund...'  
'Mum, I'm pregnant!'  
'Happy 50th!'

Which then turn into terrible circumstances...

'That's it, it's over!'  
'I'm afraid you have cancer...'  
'I'm afraid your child was in an accident...'  
'There's nothing we can do. It's time to switch the machine off.'  
'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...'  
'You're a psycho! You're never seeing my children ever again!'  
'Dad's got a new wife, she's 24...'  
'You've got 6 months, maximum, to live...'

I snapped my eyes open in a heated panic and could feel my chest beating at a mile a minute. Edward opens his eyes sleepily, rubbing them with his hands. He sniffs and blinks rapidly before realising there was something wrong. He sits up and puts his arm around my shoulder. I let a soft tear roll down my cheek.  
"What's the matter, have a bad dream?" He says in a sleepy yet comforting voice. I sniff as another cool tear seeps away from my eye. He rubs my shoulder and smiles, like a father would for its child. He quickly pulls his arm away.  
"Uh, what's up Bella?" He says, shaking his head and running his hand through his tangled mop of hair.  
"I dreamt I was living through a flash- back through my life, yet not my life now, my life when I'm old and grey. I heard certain lines that most people would be joyous to hear, yet others that everyone would dread."I whimpered. His head turns to the side, signalling that he was content to hear more.  
"I-I dreamt the lines, 'I now pronounce you man and wife', 'it's a baby girl', 'Happy 50th!', but others like 'It's over, I'm filling for divorce', 'You have cancer', 'There's nothing we can do' and 'You've got 6 months to live'. It was horrible. What if it wasn't true, what if they were all going to happen, like a premonition of death and-and all other horrible things?"I whine as the tears start to fall aplenty. I want someone to make it all better, so that it never happens. I want to have a full, happy life, with no dilemmas, divorce or death. At that moment, a certain song pops into my head, 'Citizen Erased' by Muse. I didn't particularly like the song, but it was stuck there for sure now.  
"Why 'Citizen Erased'?" He asks, puzzled.  
I turn to him, dumb struck. It was like he was a mind reader... How else would he know that it was stuck in my head. My eyebrows lower and my mouth opens awide. My eyes feel like popping out of their sockets and my words can't produce the volume to be heard.  
"Uh-Um, never mind."He says with a worried voice. I manage to pluck up enough energy to say,  
"What the-?"  
"Like I said, never mind."He replies, still with a quiver in his smooth voice.  
"H-how did you know that-that song was in my head?"  
"I was talking to myself, um, yeah; I was questioning myself, because it doesn't really fit into this situation. I mean if you listen closely enough to the, um, lyrics, yeah. Doesn't fit in. Like a monster under a bed."  
"Be truthful. If you really care enough about me, you can share the real reason with me, can't you?" I said in a cruel voice. I am tricking him, but at the same time, he is misleading me.  
"Where did that song come from?"  
"Matthew Bellamy's creative mind?"He says with a cheesy, full teethed smile. I roll my eyes and lie back down, turning over to face the wall. He mutters something under his breath, but I chose to ignore it. He lets out one over exasperated sigh and taps me on the shoulder. I turn over and see his apologetic face, with a supporting act of a crooked smile. I shake my head and look up at him, glaring.  
"I...um, have a, talent of sorts. I (how can I explain this) I have an ability to... read minds." His face cringes as he speaks, as if he is waiting for an understanding face. My lips press together and form a taught line.

All is silent. I raise one eyebrow, and his smile drops. He, again mutters something under his breath, yet this time, I found it audible.  
"Fine, don't believe me" He mumbles.  
In an annoyed and whiney voice, I reply "Fine, I wont."

It's not that I didn't want to sleep tonight, but the thought of him possibly leaving in the morning and never seeing me ever again scares me too much. My brain was like a buzzing monitor, although seeming silent; it was really making many different kinds of background noise. I couldn't concentrate; my head was now turning into a Karaoke machine, endless songs, shuffling orders, but eventually repeating themselves with a constant blur of noise. It is eating away at me, my heart, my brain, my very core. I had to apologise, and he needed to explain to me fully, about everything.  
I mean, not that I was being noisy, I just want to know more about him, because according to his own words, he 'knows me better than I think'. What did he mean by that?

I turn over and face his sleeping body. His hair is a mess, no surprises there, and his arms are all over the place. Yet I look at his face. It shows me utter peace and serenity, that he is having a blissful dream, that he is comfortable. His once heavy eye lids how are gently closed over his glistening topaz eyes, his pale face is shining, luminously, giving off a moon light glow. His lips are smiling, still perfectly rose pink. They look so soft and supple, so perfectly plump. I shuffle forward, so my face is closer to his. I feel is sweet breath on my face, I breathe it in, taking in all of the wondrous and magnificent smells. His breath is like a thousand sweet kisses, perfumed and pristine, sensuous and smooth, like a velvet gown. I shuffle further towards his face, so close in fact that our noses almost touch, and I just stare, barely breathing, gazing, trying to see into his dreams.

If I could, I would gaze into his dreams, be apart of them...  
Hoping that some of them, how ever outlandish and absurd they may be, come true.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter 7 – Spectrums

I open my eyes to see I am all alone. I knew he would leave when he had the chance. I don't blame him; I was being annoying, whiney and selfish last night. No wonder he wanted to get away as soon as he could. My stomach grumbles with an ache, telling me I need food, but I don't feel like eating, I don't feel like I deserve it.

I push the dark covers off my body and shuffle myself over to where he lay last night; I sling my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. The morning sunlight glistens through the glass window, how ever small it may be. Small spectrums appear all over the walls, like miniature rainbows. The walls were not so white anymore, instead, they were a crème to beige colour, which was making me feel ill. I've always hated beige, so bland and common, so dull. It only defines a person's nature to a certain extent, after that, you just think they are boring and limited.  
Yet, who was I to judge, most of my house is beige or crème, all to my mother's likings. She isn't the adventurous type, so bold colours, like red or blue would never suit her. She is rather timid, like myself. I yawn as I stretch my arms, hearing my shoulder's click as I do so. I shudder and walk towards the door. As I reach for the door handle, I feel a pain in my right palm. I'd forgotten about my little accident last night. I turn my hand over to see the sheer mess my hand was in. He was right, I do need stitches, either that or allot of plasters and bandages. I decide to use my left hand to open the door, lessening the risk of infection. I turn it, and with one minor click, the door opens. I drag it across the carpet, trying to make as little sound as possible in the case of someone else being in the house. I peep my head around the corner, and softly walk out onto the hall way.

The hard wood floor feels cold and lifeless, yet as it creeks, it scares me. I walk three doors down and open the bathroom door. I hold my nose as I go in, yet there is no visible evidence that he was sick in here. I remove my fingers from my nose and breathe in the smell. Bleach. I pull a face of distaste and close the door behind me.  
Although this house looked like it was lived in, I started to notice things that did suggest it had been empty in places for some time. For one, the bathroom window was covered in dust and also, the bath tub had small spots of mould and tiny pools of stagnant water. I turn to face the mirror and I check out my appearance. My dark circles look worse than ever, my forehead was shiny and my eyes were blood shot. Another reason for him to escape, the little monster lying next to him.  
I run my fingers through my hair, desperately trying to comb out all the knots. There are several at the ends of my hair, like someone had been twiddling it around in their fingers. I smell it; it still smells slightly of strawberry. I sigh and rub my nose, turn, then walk out. As I trundle back to the bedroom, I start to remember more things from my childhood.

I remember the day Miss McIver took me and Edward to the town centre, so he could buy a new sketch pad. She bought me a small doll, Marie, who made a shoe box house for. I made it exactly like this house, except, obviously smaller. I made a cardboard me, Miss McIver and Edward, and also Mr & Mrs Masen, who of course where just pieces of card with question marks on, as I had never seen them before. Miss McIver laughed when she saw them, and then found me a picture of them on their wedding day. Mrs Masen was tall and beautiful, with curly dark ginger hair and extremely pale skin. Mr Masen was also tall, yet with a manly build and a slight tan to his face. He had wavy dark blonde hair, which was about the same length as Edward's now and the same wicked smile as his son. Mrs Masen wore a flawless wedding gown, with a long ivory train and a laced bodice. Her husband wore a simple suit, with a light pink rose as his corsage which matched her bouquet. They looked so content, so in love it was like magic, like a fairy tale. You could see a small bump on Mrs Masen's dress, which I presume is a baby, their first child, Edward. I smile at the memory.

When I snapped back to reality, I was standing right in front of the bedroom door, with my left hand gently cupped over the door handle. I grasp it, turn it and push it opening it to find a tray waiting on the bed. I walk over, tripping over something, yet not falling and sit down next to it. There, lying on the tray was a wrack of toast, a small glass of orange juice, a small pot of tea with a tea cup and saucer to match.

There is also a plate, with a delicate silver rim. There lies a note on top of that plate, addressed to 'Sleepy head'. It reads;

'Bella,  
sorry I was not there when you woke up; I was making breakfast for you.  
I have gone out to buy paint, to re-decorate. You may want to check your mobile phone. Your mother is worried. I will explain everything to you later,  
Yours, E. Masen'.

Why did he always sign off that way? Why not put Edward or E?  
I looked at the tray; it was begging me to take a bite or just a sip.  
I pick up a quarter of toast, it was dripping with butter. I hate butter, or any type of spread, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings by not even nibbling it. I took a small bite, cringe ready.

It was very surprising. It is delicious. It is a flavour explosion. I take another bite; it still delivered the same impact as the first. I smile as I swallow, feeling happy to eat this food, feeling thankful.  
After eating all the toast, I walk over to my bag and dive around until I find my jeans. I squeeze the phone out of the pocket and turn it on.

'You have 5 missed calls'. Oh dear. I sigh and press 'call'. I rings three times and then someone picks up on the other end.

"Hello?" Asks the voice, worry slightly showing through the cracks in their words.  
"Mum?" I ask, in a relatively cool tone. The person on the other sighs with relief.  
"Isabella! Where are you?" She shouts, still with worried cracks. I get a wave of guilt that quickly passes.  
"At Michelle's, like I said, don't you listen?" I lie, with a little attitude thrown in for authenticity.  
"Don't lie to me young lady! I know you didn't spend the night at Michelle's, her party got crashed by some college boys and Michelle's mother took everyone home. I phoned to see if you were still there but Michelle said you never came. Now where have you been?" Another wave of guilt and worry washed over me. What would she do if she knew I had a sleep over with a 23 year old man? What would she do if she knew I broke the law by breaking in and entering someone else's home? What would happen if she told Dad? I'd be dead for sure then. I panicked; I rummaged through my bag yet found nothing of use, I ran back over to the bed and picked up the note again, I turned it over, I never noticed the writing on the back. It says;

'In case of emergency, shout these three words.  
Come. Rescue. Me.'

"Bella? Bella! Bella, answer me now!" She angrily shouts.  
"Come rescue me". I murmur, just loud enough for myself to hear. Nothing happens.  
"ISABELLA MARIE SWAN!" A foreign voice screamed. That could only be one other person. Dad.  
"COME RESCUE ME!" I shouted like asked. The other side of the phone line went completely silent.  
"B-bells?" Dad asks, absolute panic running through his musky grunts, "Wh-what's hap-ppened? Are you hurt? Did someone take you?"  
"No, I was getting supplies and stuff to bring to Michelle's when I took a wrong turn and got lost. Um, then I fell down a ditch, so I'm guessing I'm somewhere by a farmers field. It's too deep, I can't get out. I just about managed to get signal on this mobile to ring you to come save me. I've been shouting help but no one can hear me. I'm scared, come find me. Please."  
"Oh Bella! Falling down a ditch, that's a new one! Okay, we'll come scour the out-skirts of town by the Farmer's fields and the woods. We'll, ha-ha, be there soon!" He laughed as he hung up. I let out a relieved sigh and smiled. I close my eyes and hold the phone to my chest.

Turning around, I picture his face in my mind, with little spectrums bouncing off it. He smiles, teeth showing a brilliant white smile. I smile the same smile, yet something sinister turns in my head and his face scowls, he raises his top lip. And there are his teeth, yet now, dripping from his incisors and canines', a red liquid falls onto his bottom lip.

It wasn't just any red liquid.

It was blood.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter 8 – Horrification**

His subtle eyes were no longer there, instead replaced with ones of a monster. My eyes pop and I stare, widely at him. I shudder and my lids fall closed, and then I see all but black. My mind is still buzzing on, like an old light bulb, yet I can't seem to open my eyes or to move in the slightest. I try kicking out, but to no avail.

Panic-stricken, I try to cry, but after last night, I appear to be all cried out. I want to moan and groan, yet all I can suffice to is small grunts. I feel an embrace, yet not a warm loving one I wish to so desperately covert, no it was stony and hard, like a gargoyle. I feel a sweet breath on my neck; it lingers for a moment and then greets me at my lips. Again, it hesitates, yet for longer this time. I cringe, not knowing what to expect, yet predicting what could be... could it be Edward? Could he be a vampire?

At an instant, my eyes shoot open and I am back underneath the covers, snugly tucked up and warm. I sit up and look around the room; it's exactly the same as it was just moments ago... I look to the side and find a messy mop of hair lying next to me. I sigh and smile internally, it was just a dream.

I shuffle underneath the covers and slide out the bottom of the bed, I check my self in the mirror, and I am a 'state'. I delve into my bag and pull out a rather tatty and full of hair comb and I brush my rat's tails through. Surprisingly, they feel smooth and silky – a radical change to the normal. Smiling for what feels like the first time in forever, I slide off my pyjama bottoms and kick them into the corner of the room. Still half-asleep, I pick up the first pair of pants I could find and hitch them up to my waist. They feel big, very big, like something my Dad would wear for 'comfort' at work. I hazily rummage through the pockets and find a scrunched up piece of paper, scrawled with black ink. Curious, I carefully peel back each corner, making sure I don't wake Edward.

Placing it flat on my palm, I smooth out the creases and pull the corners tight. At first, it's mainly writing which has been blotted out with ink, but as I read down the page, certain words catch my eye, ones that have been scratched on, yet not scribbled out.

'Torn'  
'Regret'  
'Hurt'  
'Love'  
'Empty'

I couldn't think of any possible way to decode it, it just seemed a load of random words strung together. Noticing more ink, I flip over the paper and read the opposite side. It was perfect script, very neat and straight with elegant loops and swirls. It seemed a little too feminine for my liking. It read:

'_Edward, I'm dreadfully sorry. It's a crying shame we did not work out and that we have to depart. I will not forget those amazing times we shared and how you said I was your only. But I am a young woman; I am not ready to settle down, to be faithful. You gave me your youth, something of great value which I see you have wasted on me. Use your remaining years on someone you truly love, because I know you do not truly love me._'

The name had been ripped off.

All of a sudden I feel entirely empty, cold and spineless. I feel I have a heart that has been given to someone who loved another, someone who lied to me.

I scrunch the paper back into a ball and cram it into the pocket of the pants. I yank them off and kick them out of the way. Then pull out the t-shirt I had been wearing the day before and stretch into it. A silent sob over comes me and I drop myself into the middle of the floor, head in hands.

"Fucking lies, sweet little fucking lies", I growl as I grind my teeth loudly against each other in utter hatred for this woman. I picture her in my head, gorgeous with a glowing complexion, long, golden hair, tall, tanned and elegant. Everything I hate. Utter fucking perfection.

I begin to cry as I start to imagine him with her, this amazing woman, with my man. They hold hands in public, they kiss each other softly when ever they feel like doing so, and they cuddle and feel each others warmth. I picture them with children, golden red heads with fair skin and bright eyes. They're every image of their parents. I see them old and grey, with great grandchildren running around their feet on Christmas day, still contently in love. The ideal life.

A shattering pain thunder shocks through my body and I jolt back to reality. I turn around to see Edward standing there, not knowing what to do with himself. I look up and interlock with his melting topaz eyes, tears streaming down my hot face. I feel a mess. A stupid, foolish, hot mess.

I reach out for his hand, and he takes mine. He closes his eyes and pulls me up, but not letting go. He pulls me close and holds me, hugging my small frame. I pour my emotions into his t-shirt and runs his long fingers through my hair. I feel like smiling, but the muscles in my face fall weakly back into a frown every time I try. He rubs my back and finally releases his grip.

"I think I'll need to change my t-shirt now". He sighs adding emphasis on the fact that he has to change it. I let out a small chuckle and look down, apologetically. I see out of the corner of his eye his shoulder again as he changes into clean clothes, and I notice also that I still have no pants on. I blush a hot, dark red and I scamper over to my bag, pulling out a very short denim mini-skirt and some thick woollen tights. I pull them on shyly, feeling self-conscious of myself. By the time I have managed to get my tights on, Edward is dressed and fully groomed, looking devilishly handsome. I smile widely and he notices.

"I scrub up nicely don't I?" His eyebrows raised high, in a suggestive manor. A piercing crooked smile melts me and I start to feel slightly strange inside. Shivering, I grab the skirt off of the floor and slide it seductively up my legs, buttoning it slowly for maximum effect. His eyes light up and his mouth opens slightly... but then I realize what I'm doing.

I'm acting like a hooch, like someone who hasn't been taught better. My face falls slowly back to a sad line and so I turn around to pick up my hoodie. But his hand stops me in my tracks, as if I was frozen.

Within seconds he pulls me close to him, shoving me against his hard chest. I feel light headed as he cups my chin with his hand and forces me to look him in eyes. My heart melts and I close my eyes. I feel him move his face closer, and I open my eyes to find our noses just inches apart. This time, he goes in for the kiss.

His lips plant softly upon mine, making mine tingle slightly. I push my mouth closer to his and hold on for dear life. He opens his slightly to breath and I do the same. He stumbles backwards and I follow suit, as I trip over something, pushing us both onto the bed. I smile and let him do all the work, feeling like a novice. He lets me feel the warmth in his mouth as he opens it up.

I freeze. I'm in too deep.

He pulls back and I open my eyes, his staring curiously into mine. My spine jolts and I kick the bed, forcing me to roll off of him to nurse my sore shin. He laughs.

"Nothing goes quite smoothly with you, Miss Swan."


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter 9 – Innocent mistake**

Blushing hard, I roll over to face his dense body. He seems to be panting, as if it was some sort of adrenaline shot that had coursed through his body. I seem a little out of breath myself, as my heart flutters and my head is in a daze. I just simply smile to myself, shaking my head in wonder.

"That was exhilarating! My hearts beating a mile a minute" He says as he rolls his body to face mine. I feel a strange sensation to laugh as I pierce my lips from smiling a rather goofy grin, why did he make me feel this way? We'd only reconnected within the last 12 hours and now it seemed we were in some sort of impulsive trance, unable to take our eyes off of each other, as if we were two wonderful, tantalising beings.

"Did I pressure you too much Bella? You seemed to freeze up..." He asks with a wondrous expression plastered on his soft face. I hesitate before I confess.

"Well, for one, that was my first real kiss ever and the fact that I am only 14 and you are over 20... I was in too deep Edward, I'm not that gorgeous 20-something year old you were in love with, I'm just some inexperienced minor." Oh shit.

His expression had completely changed, from his spectacular happy face; it had become a somewhat sullen and angry face. His lips are pierced and he looked up at me, his forehead and eyebrows styled in a furrowed fashion.

"Why have you been looking through my things? I don't recall giving you permission to do this..." His teeth were grinding against each other, the noise like a food mixer with a heap of cement in it. It is not pleasant. Guilt stricken, I begin to sweat and I horrid cool shiver tantalises my spine. He angrily gets up from the bed and shoves on his jeans; delving in his deep pockets he finds the note.

He pauses a moment before unfolding the ball of paper into its flat former self.

"Oh, you saw this, huh?" His tone has reverted back to his original solemn, humble ways. He seems in some ways apologetic for getting angry, which I now feel he had the right to do. I swallow hard.

"Yeah, I did. Look I'm sorry for going through your things; it technically was an accident that I pondered upon it. You see I was fumbling around in the dark and..."

His finger was pressed to my lips, words fail me.

"It's okay Bella, it was an innocent mistake. Right, I think it was about time we got some breakfast don't you?"


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter 10 – Coffee and TV**

Stepping out in public with him was rather magical because for one, everyone's eyes were first affixed to him, and then to me. Perhaps it was the fact that I looked like a twelve year out with her big brother, or the fact that I was hand in hand with him, content as can be. He chose a rather secluded greasy spoon diner on the outside of the town centre. It was the typical Texan diner style, with truckers, people on road trips and the regulars. We stroll in, feeling rather over-dressed for this place and sit in a booth next to the window. The slutty waitress' eyes light up as she sees possibly the first attractive male of the day.

"What made you think of here?" I ask, rather amused by his decision.

"It's out of the way, it's quiet and we can be ourselves. What's your problem?" I suppose he pointed out the obvious.

"My problem is" I start to whisper as the cafe starts to settle into a quiet murmur, leaning forward across the table so that he could hear, "that it's a bit... greasy." I shiftily look around before I sit fully back in my booth seat.

The slutty waitress appeared from out of no where, looking rather Dolly Parton-esque. She had a near full cleavage on show, a short peppermint green dress on and some cheap stiletto heels. Her hair was casually scraped back into a curly bun and her make-up was terribly over-done with cheap eyeliner and mascara which had already crumbled onto her cheeks. She smiled fully as she chewed a piece of gum with her 99 cent lip gloss slightly glimmering off of her bottom lip. In her hands was a yellowed note pad and tatty pen, probably chewed through boredom.

"Hello sir!" She said with whinny New York accent. I cringe for Edward's sake, because obviously it would have been rude for him to do it when her eyes were transfixed on his form.

"My name is Annie, how can I sort you out?" She looks as though she's about to start drooling onto the note pad, which already appeared to be scribbled with black scrawny hand writing. Edward picks up a tattered laminated menu from between the salt and pepper shakers, looking enthusiastically at the menu. He looks up at me for a brief second before deciding.

"I think I will have a 'full English' cooked breakfast please" He says with a broad smile on his face, turning his head in the direction of Annie the waitress. He hands me the menu and asks ", and how about you Bella, what do you want dear?" The waitress abruptly looked up, startled. I don't think she had noticed me there, let alone that I was sitting with Edward. Her face became a sullen pout and she snarls at me, hopefully jealously.

Looking up, I begin to be too enthusiastic about the menu, saying 'how delicious does that sound' and 'oh, that would be a real treat'.

She didn't look very happy that I was taking the piss.

"Okay, I think I'll have an egg, sunny side up on toast please Annie, and a coffee." I didn't dare look her in face, she was scowling enough before.

Edward then added "make that two coffee's please Annie" with a bright and happy smile. Annie looked as though her knees had just gone weak. I scoffed a little.

"Coming right up, sir", and with that she teetered off in her worn heels, stumbling as she went.

"That was fun." I lied; sarcasm glaring through like a headlight in fog.

Edward chuckled, taking both my hands and rubbing them with his thumbs. I smile; he made my heart soar and my brain buzz with a sensational electric feeling. A sudden noise of aloud female news reporter interrupts my train of thought.

"... and we are still on the look out missing heir to the Masen family fortune and ex-lover of Melissa Parker, famous New York socialite and pianist Edward Masen. He vanished from his studio apartment on the upper-east side of New York two weeks ago and left no clue of where he gone to. The police are still treating his disappearance as suspicious and ask if anyone has seen him within the last few days to contact the NYPD as soon as they can."

A picture then flashed up on the screen of a bearded, long haired man with a gorgeous woman on his arm. She was blonde with a huge chest, bulging out of her long gown. As far as you could see on the picture, her legs went on for miles and she was beautifully hour-glass shaped, with a glowing smile. She was a stunning specimen.

My head slowly turns back to Edward who had somehow found himself a newspaper to hide behind. I tear it out of his hands and shove it up against the window of our booth. He anxiously looks behind him to see if anyone had noticed it was him, but they hadn't and he sat up straight.

"What the fuck? A 'Famous New York socialite'? I wonder why this never cropped up before... hmm." I sounded like my mother, but it I didn't care. His face goes pale and I just shake my head in wonder and confusion.

"I didn't like that life, it bored me... plus Melissa broke up with me and told me to find my true love, so I came back here..."

I scoffed so hard and loudly that the rest of the cafe heard and looked up curiously to investigate. Edward settled back down in his seat, hiding again. The waitress clumps back over with a jug of black coffee and two mugs. She places them down on the table with care, leaning forward towards Edward so that her cleavage was in plain view. He looks away and I smile for no reason. Annie splashes some luke-warm coffee into each mug and then stomps off again. Perhaps she was looking for a tip...

"Right, explain." I said with a bitter force. I was becoming awfully nosey and acting allot older than my years. He picked up his coffee and took a small sip, the dirty mug shaking a little.

"Well, Melissa was my girlfriend when I was in New York, I don't know why she decided upon me, because when I lived there I was just some comedy club pianist living in a shabby flat. She heard me play and took a liking to me, staying behind after the show waiting for me to end my shift. No woman had ever been interested in me before then, so I was very surprised and obviously very awkward. And by the way, we didn't do anything, we didn't even have sex. So yeah, I'm still a virgin. She showed my talents off at her parties and people soon started socialising with me. Within weeks I was going to two or three parties a week and Melissa would buy me something new to wear each time. Newspapers picked up on me and traced back my routes, finding out that I had very wealthy parents. I was then known as an heir to their fortune... my parents were livid as everyone they knew started to treat them differently and paparazzi started to snap them up. It was too much for them and I was growing tired of allowing them to steal all my privacy. When I acted out, they started rumours about me being some sexual pervert and sleeping with hundreds of women.

"I ended it with Melissa about two weeks ago and then came to find you. You'd never left my mind; I always wondered how the young Isabella was getting on and how her life was going. I never expected someone as deep and mature as you are now. I really didn't see it coming. But I was glad you were this kind of person, someone who thinks for themselves and who you can really express your true emotions with."

His eyes were relaxed and a wondrous half smile appeared on his face. Some sort of amphetamine had kicked in and I too had forgotten about his secrecy. I suppose he was bound to have a past that I did not know anything about for I had not seen him in nearly 7 years, and allot can happen in 7 years. Annie the waitress came back over with two grubby plates of greasy food. One was lazily arranged with a large fried egg, smothered in ketchup and the other was brimming with calorific meats and fats, all a deliciously tempting golden brown arranged neatly and precisely on the plate. Edward gave a subtle nod and a smile to the waitress and I gave an awkward glance and grin. She seemed a little dissatisfied with my initial reaction.

"One 'full English' fried breakfast and an egg sunny-side up with ketchup" on a burnt piece of toast, I added in my head. I sarcastically grinned in the plate's direction and out of the corner of my eye I saw a small chuckle from Edward. Annie hesitated.

"Erm, want anything else, Sugar?" she asked politely as she could muster. She was after something.

"No thank you, this is enough cholesterol to last me a while!" Edward jokes, a comical grin plastered on his pale skin. Obviously the waitress didn't understand, so she gives a slight snicker and walks away, rolling her eyes as she goes.

The egg was surprisingly edible, even though it tasted a little off and over-cooked. Edward seemed to be enjoying his feast as he shovelled in half a sausage, Ron Weasley style. I felt rather content at this moment, watching him eat. It sounds creepy but I truly enjoyed this moment as it was just me and him, in a natural environment surrounded by people. We were acting like a couple in my eyes, although everyone else might have thought we were friends or he was my older brother. I didn't care too much, I just enjoyed the jealously of the waitress, the gentle buzz of background noise and knowing that I was spending time with one person I truly admire and love, and knowing he feels the same way.

If this was just the beginning, I wonder what the epitome of this feeling will be.


End file.
